This is a fun chapter! I really want to give a lot of attention to Kile's family relationships as well as the royal family and everyone in the Selection. SO MANY WORDS SO LITTLE TIME.

If anyone reading this invested in my one shot collection (and you probably are because we are so starved for keadlyn content) just know that I am WORKING ON IT. I have multiple failed drafts of multiple promising ideas; I just can't get it right lately. The only thing that works these days is TBLP and I'm going to take that and run with it.

Even though I was annoyed, I kept my promise. I trudged into the studio at six-fifty-nine and took my usual seat between my dad and Josie. My sister and I obviously had different opinions about watching the Report in-house: I was in laundry-day clothes with a book in hand in case the show got boring, and she was visibly giddy in her best dress. She'd even pilfered one of the princess's tiaras, like a crown on her head was enough to make her royalty. Josie had always wanted to be a princess, but despite living in the royal palace all our lives, we were forever doomed to be one step below. Common, as Her Royal Highness liked to remind me.

Mom gave me a grateful little smile, which I ignored. I was still annoyed with her for dragging me here, although there were certainly worse things. I didn't resent sitting in on the Report as much as I resented most other aspects of palace life. When I'd been at the academy in Fennley, Spencer brought a different girl to our room almost every week, so I spent most of my Friday nights watching the Report in the creepy basement common room of our building. It was actually comforting in a way.

I'd arrived at just the right time. The spotlights brightened, and the stars of our show took the stage: Gavril Fadaye, elderly-but-still-spry host, and the entirety of the royal family. King Maxon and Queen America typically did most of the talking, but Eadlyn was involved frequently, being the crown princess. Her brothers—Ahren, Kaden, and Osten—were usually confined to the sidelines. Osten frequently used this time to pull pranks. It was impressive what he could do without leaving his throne or getting caught on camera. Kaden often stared at Josie, in the front row. Ahren actually watched the show, while Josie stared at him.

The mood in the studio was tense. Even as King Maxon and Gavril discussed the stock market, I could sense the anticipation rolling off them in waves. Queen America, her red hair neatly pinned up, smiled like she had a secret. Prince Ahren, her oldest son, wore almost the exact same smile. Princess Eadlyn, the odd one out, had a face like a stone, but she almost always looked like that.

When the "Capital" portion of the "Illéa Capital Report" drew to a close, Gavril dismissed the king and queen and called the princess up instead. Eadlyn glided across the stage, graceful even in steep high heels. I'd seen Josie try to walk in heels maybe half that height, and it was ugly, but Eadlyn, of course, managed it perfectly. On the outside, when the cameras were running, everything about her was perfect. It was hard to believe this poised, charming girl had once told me I dressed like a colorblind sheep farmer and had the hair to match, but I knew beneath the pretty face and articulate public persona, Eadlyn was more pain in the ass than princess.

"So, Your Highness, I hear you have an announcement to make," Gavril said knowingly.

Much of the crowd leaned forward eagerly; I rolled my eyes. If I wanted to hear people cater to the princess, I'd sit in on a cabinet meeting. Eadlyn got plenty of attention; she didn't need or deserve any of mine. I reached for my book, but Josie smacked my hand away. I gave her a questioning look, and she responded by cocking her head towards the stage. Like something important was going to happen.

At Josie's insistence, I watched as Eadlyn nodded. "Yes. As you might remember, I celebrated my eighteenth birthday recently."

I remembered. About a month ago, Mom had begged me to come home to celebrate the twins' coming-of-age, but I had declined in favor of studying for finals. Had it just been Ahren's birthday, my answer might have been different—the eldest prince and I were something akin to friends; it was just his sister I had a problem with. Eadlyn's tendency to make everything about her had ruined many a good party.

"Since then, I've been reflecting on my life and what I want for my future," Eadlyn went on, another perfectly rehearsed answer. What she actually wanted, I assumed, was an Olympic-sized pool and a personal servant to feed her peeled grapes, but I doubted that was what her announcement was about. "I've decided it's time to take the next step in life."

I filled in the blanks from there. Eadlyn thought she knew best and was "always right", so she'd convinced her parents to let her take the throne even though her dad was barely forty. That didn't count as "important" to me. It might start to be "interesting" in a few months when her incompetent leadership inevitably tanked the economy. I picked up my book again. Josie grabbed my arm.

"And what might that be?" Gavril asked.

Eadlyn took a deep breath. For a moment, her perfect face faltered, but her voice was steady when she spoke. "I'm going to host a Selection and choose my husband."

Oh.

That was unexpected.

The rest of the crowd went wild. Josie was giggling, like this was something happening to her, but all I could think was those poor bastards. Thirty-five strangers pursuing Eadlyn's hand in marriage? She'd eat them alive.

"A Selection! How exciting!" Gavril marveled. "Making history as usual, Your Highness—no princess has held a Selection before."

"Right. The concept will be much the same: one suitor from each province will be invited to stay at the palace and court me." The concept was the same, but the results would be different. Every previous Selection had ended with a marriage, but Eadlyn's would most likely end with carnage. She was not the sweet, romantic type to say the least. "Applications will be available for one week. Once the names are drawn, the lucky men will have another week to prepare before entering the palace."

Right. Lucky.

"How exciting!" Gavril exclaimed. "I'm sure you'll have a record number of applicants."

Only because they have no idea what they're getting into. Eadlyn was beautiful—even I could admit that—but she was also selfish, cruel, and completely oblivious to anything that didn't directly affect her. She'd cut down every sucker who showed up here thinking they actually had a chance with her.

When the cameras shut off, I couldn't wait to leave. All I had to look forward to was people making a fuss over Eadlyn, and I, quite frankly, did not care. Mom went to talk to the royal family right away—as Queen America's lady-in-waiting, that was technically part of her job. Josie would've gone too, since she was obsessed with all things royalty, but Eadlyn gave her a death glare before she could take the first step, and for once in her life, my sister took a hint.

I was Josie's second choice for company. "Isn't this great?" she demanded. "We're going to have guests!"

"Eadlyn is going to have guests," I reminded her. With my sister, I was often required to be the voice of reason.

Josie shrugged. "So? She can only marry one of 'em."

"You're not serious, are you? They'll all be way too old for you!" Josie was only fifteen. "Plus, aren't you still stuck on Ahren, who is in a relationship and also too old for you?"

"Shh! Someone might hear you!" she said frantically.

I just rolled my eyes. Josie thought she was subtle, but everyone had known about her crush on Ahren even before Osten stole her diary and proclaimed it to the world. "Sorry. I'll keep my voice down," I said sarcastically.

She huffed at me. "You're so mean. Someday, when you have a crush on someone, I'll get you back."

"When I have a crush on someone, you won't know, because I'm actually capable of keeping a secret."

"Then I'll get you back some other way," she retorted, but I wasn't too worried about it. Despite having Eadlyn as her main role model, my sister wasn't all that wrathful.

Before I left, I cast one last glance at the stage. The royal family was still talking to my parents and Gavril, but now that the cameras were off, Eadlyn had a firm scowl across her face. That was typical of her—even when all the attention was on her, exactly as she liked it, she found some way to be sour about it. Whoever entered the Selection was in for a real treat.

I grabbed my book and snuck away. Those poor bastards.

§

Once I finished unpacking, I got to work on my application—not for the Selection; I wasn't crazy. I'd already finished the easy part of my scholarship application—name, age, educational background—and now I had to make sense of the harder but more important part: a portfolio of my architectural works.

It wasn't that hard. I'd been designing buildings since I was fourteen and kept every sketch. Some of them were good. I pawed through my desk, already a mess even though I'd just gotten home—and picked some of my favorites. Dozens of houses, places I might like to live if I ever got out of the castle, massive bridges and hospitals. I'd have to update them and rewrite the dimensions in my best handwriting, but I had a strong start already.

I didn't want to just submit my old works, though. If I wanted to win the full ride—and I did—I needed to create something spectacular that would set me apart. I couldn't submit something that had been done before; I needed a statement piece.

My mind drifted back to the Report. Admittedly, I hadn't been paying much attention, but I recalled King Maxon and Gavril discussing the manufacturing boom in central Illéa. Factories and much-needed jobs were opening up in areas without developed neighborhoods. People were moving to Tammins and Midston at the promise of employment, only to find themselves on the streets.

I could do something with that.

I unrolled a sheet of drafting paper on my desk. The ideas came faster than I could draw them. The houses—no, not houses, apartments—had to be simple enough to come together quickly, but be strong enough to withstand high winds. I considered stone construction at first, then switched to metal siding; it would be easier to transport to building sites.

Absorbed in my design, I didn't hear the knocking at my door—Dad just let himself in. "What're you working on?"

I didn't have time to hide, so I showed him my work and gave a quick explanation. Dad nodded along stoically. He had no interest in architecture himself, but he'd always been the biggest supporter of my education. Things were different when Dad was my age: he wanted me to have the opportunities he never got.

For whatever reason, despite growing up in that same flawed system, Mom seemed to want the exact opposite.

"It's for a scholarship," I eventually admitted. I could always be honest with my dad. "I might get my full tuition paid."

"And when will your mother find out about this?" he asked carefully. When Mom and I argued—me wanting to leave, her wanting me to stay—Dad always placed himself firmly in the middle. I could understand him not wanting to take sides, but sometimes I wished he'd actually stick up for me.

"When I win it. If I win it," I amended. "You won't tell her, right?"

Dad shook his head. "No. That's your choice. But you know she'll be upset."

I did know, and I already felt guilty about it even though I hadn't yet finished the application, much less sent it off or been accepted. Even though she put me through hell, I loved my mom, and she'd made it clear that it would break her heart if I moved out. I didn't want to break her heart. "I know. I just feel like, if I win this and prove I have talent worth investing in…"

"She doesn't think you're not talented. That's never been the issue," Dad interrupted.

I sighed. "Then what is?"

"That's something you'll have to hear from her."

I'd already asked Mom why plenty of times, and she'd never given me a clear answer. If I could understand her thought process, maybe I wouldn't have been so frustrated by the eternal house arrest, but she never gave me a straight answer.

"Dad, I've tried."

He smiled, a little sadly. "Just know she means well."

I scoffed. Everyone else my age was moving out and starting careers, but I had to be satisfied with my mother "meaning well" and holding me back from living an actual life. "Thanks," I said flatly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Dad didn't waste any more breath trying to defend her to me—probably a wise decision. I was grateful when he left me alone again. I had a lot to do, and suddenly, winning the scholarship seemed all the more important. I couldn't stay here forever: Mom would just have to find some way to forgive me.